


slow motion, double vision

by jezza



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Bickering, Canon Compliant, Extremely Mutual Pining, Flashbacks, Flirting, Getting Together, Kissing, Light Angst, M/M, Mentioned sakuatsu, Non-Linear Narrative, Pining, Post-Time Skip, Vague Proposals, a love letter to onigiri and suna's eyebrows, but i'm also not fact checking myself, no beta we die like daichi, or is the bickering flirting, under the influence on one occasion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:01:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28192113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jezza/pseuds/jezza
Summary: Osamu sighs. “You sure about this? Now?”Suna huffs out a breath as he takes a seat at the counter. “Yep.”“May I ask, the fuck why?”“So eloquent, Osamu,” Suna drones, rolling his eyes. “We’re doing this now because it’s about fucking time.”And as he watches Suna watching him from across the counter, Osamu knows that yeah, it’s really about fucking time.-Or, Osamu and Suna are in love and don’t bother doing anything about it - until they do.
Relationships: Miya Osamu/Suna Rintarou
Comments: 5
Kudos: 133





	slow motion, double vision

**Author's Note:**

> i have been craving onigiri ever since i started writing this where is my local onigiri miya
> 
> title from gold rush by taylor swift because evermore destroyed my soul

Osamu’s alone at the front counter like he so often is these days – counting the money when the staff’s all gone home, all the lights out except the dodgy one at the back that starts to flicker late in the evenings. He’s counting the coins again (for the fourth time because they still won’t damn add up) when there’s a grating knock on the front door. Osamu doesn’t bother to get up.

“We’re closed, asshole,” he shouts, because customer service voices are reserved for people who can read a goddamn sign. The knock comes again, and Osamu contemplates throwing something at the door. “Closed!”

There’s a laugh from outside and Osamu can vaguely hear them say something. It sounds scornful. He’s just about to yell again when his phone buzzes on the counter beside him.

**Rin | 10:17** _Open the door, asshole_

Osamu stares at his phone for a second. “Hecking shitbuckets.” There’s another bang on the door, so he sighs and gets to his feet. “I’m coming, for fuck’s sake!”

The laugh’s a lot clearer this time. “Take your fucking time, then.”

Osamu snorts and pauses in front of the door. He turns and leans back against it. “Don’t mind if I do,” he drawls, pulling slightly at the blinds to see Suna standing outside.

“Osamu,” he calls, and Osamu can see him lean his shoulder against the glass, peering at him through the gap in the blinds. “Open the door. It’s cold.”

He sighs and pulls the door open. “Starting to sound like ‘Tsumu with all that complaining.”

Suna wrinkles his nose. “Shoot me as soon as that happens.”

“’Course,” Osamu obliges, leading Suna inside. “So what are ya doing here?”

Suna purses his lips. “Do you want the easy answer or the real answer?”

Osamu sighs. He knew they’d get here one day, but he wasn’t expecting it to be _today_ of all days, when he’s had what might be one of the longest days in the shop yet and he still hasn’t fucking counted the coins correctly.

“You’d better sit down then.”

_(He remembers, years ago, out the back of Inarizaki’s gym, where he’d pushed Suna against the wall and desperately pressed their lips together. Suna had kissed him back, he knows that much, before gently pushing him away with a sigh, giving away nothing except raising that one damn eyebrow._

_“Osamu,” he’d sighed. “Don’t make it complicated.”_

_And when you’re dumb and eighteen, putting a little effort into something seems the same as asking for the whole world.)_

Osamu sighs. “You sure about this? Now?”

Suna huffs out a breath as he takes a seat at the counter. “Yep.” 

“May I ask, the fuck why?”

“So eloquent, Osamu,” Suna drones, rolling his eyes. “We’re doing this now because it’s about fucking time.”

And as he watches Suna watching him from across the counter, Osamu knows that yeah, it’s really about fucking time.

_(The first time Osamu sees Suna after he leaves Hyogo is just before his first game with EJP Raijin. Suna’s dead on his feet, bags under his eyes and shoulders turned in with exhaustion. Osamu had texted him a few days earlier to invite him over for good luck onigiri. He might’ve neglected to mention that Atsumu would be there too._

_“Not running so hot, are ya?” Atsumu calls at him._

_Suna shoots him a glare. “Shut it, Miya. We’re gonna crush you on Thursday.”_

_Atsumu shrugs. “I dunno, Sunarin, the Jackals are in fine form lately.”_

_“And you think we’re not?” Suna asks quietly, helping himself to some onigiri. It’s the same Suna that blocks your spike without a second thought, eyes ablaze with the same fire that burns in Osamu’s gut._

_“Someone’s feisty tonight,” Atsumu sings, stuffing another bite into his mouth. Osamu wrinkles his nose as he fills a glass of water before Atsumu inevitably chokes on some rice._

_Suna just rolls his eyes and sends Osamu a look. Osamu deliberately turns away because he doesn’t want to be the twin on the receiving end of Suna Rintarou’s death glare, but he supposes he’s due some payback for inviting Suna into his Atsumu-ridden home._

_He knows, though, deep down, that Suna is glad to be here, even with Atsumu making a bother of himself.)_

Suna drums his fingers on the counter, sighing a little. “You’re gonna make me go first, aren’t you?”  
  
Osamu shrugs. “You’re the one who turned up at my shop.”

“Fair,” Suna allows, gaze settling on the coins sprawled in front of Osamu. “Finish up. Then we’ll talk.”

“Alright,” Osamu says slowly, dragging the coins back in towards him. He starts to count them off, but his concentration’s shot with Suna starting at him like that. He sighs and shoves them away again. “I can’t do this with ya watching me. Go upstairs, I’ll be up soon.”

He fishes the keys out of his pocket and tosses them to Suna. Suna looks at them, curls his fingers tighter around the metal before standing. He walks behind the counter and brushes a hand over Osamu’s shoulders.

“See you soon, then.”

Osamu waits until he leaves before slumping over the counter, letting out a sigh. He pulls his phone out and smashes out a text to Atsumu.

**Thing 1 | 10:31** _suna’s here_

**Thing 1 | 10:31** _help_

**Thing 2 | 10:32** _man the fuck up samu_

“Typical,” he grunts, tossing his phone away and pulling the coins towards him once more. “Come on, ‘Samu, it’s only maths.”

Miraculously, the coins even off on the first try, and he shoves them into the bank bag with a hoot, stuffing it into the safe before kicking it shut. He locks up and jogs over to the stairs that’ll take him up to his apartment, but he stops short at the bottom.

Going up those stairs is gonna change everything, he realises.

And like a fool, Osamu takes them at a jog, two at a time.

_(Osamu’s late. It’s his own fault, if he’s being honest (which he is decidedly not, so Astumu is never going to find out that he spent fifteen minutes fixing his fucking hair) and the train’s delayed because of god knows what and Osamu is hungry._

_He sends a quick text to Atsumu, asking him to hold off on the barbecuing until he gets there. Osamu refuses to eat less meat than that idiot._

_“Come on,” he mutters, hitting his foot against a pole as the train finally kicks itself back into motion. “I want my meat.”_

_He jogs his way to the restaurant because he doesn’t trust Atsumu further than he can throw him, barbecue included. Pushing the door open, Osamu spots him straight away because he still hasn’t toned his hair yet and the yellow of it is sticking out not so nicely under the lights of the restaurant._

_What Osamu didn’t expect, however, was to see Suna sitting across from him. It’s probably their idea of payback for the other week, asking Suna along and not telling Osamu. Hilarious._

_He decides not to comment. “I can’t believe ya started cooking without me.”_

_“Just cause yer a control freak, ‘Samu,” Atsumu chides. “Sit down.”_

_“Thank you, dear brother,” he drones. “Suna.”_

_“Osamu,” Suna replies and Osamu can see him swallow back a smirk._

_Bastard._

_“So, what’s new?” he asks, tugging the tongs away from Atsumu. He always burns the meat._

_Suna shrugs. “Not much. I got some new shoes the other day.”_

_Atsumu glances up from whatever on his phone had stolen his attention. “Have ya done the ritual yet?”_

_Suna has lucky shoes. It’s not anything particular about the shoes themselves – he makes them lucky, in stupid little ritual that he’s been doing as long as they’ve known him._

_“Not yet. I was hoping you’d join me.”_

_Osamu pauses. He wasn’t sure they’d still be invited, now that they no longer share a court._

_“I’d be honoured,” Atsumu says, wiping away a fake tear. “When and where?”_

_Suna hesitates. “Well, I was thinking we could do it tonight.”_

_“Where are we gonna get a court tonight?”_

_“I’m sure Atsumu can sort that out,” Suna says flippantly, tapping at Osamu’s wrist to tell him to take the meat off the grill._

_And that’s how they end up in the Jackals’ training gym at ten thirty at night, taking turns to hit a serve into Suna’s new shoes._

_“Hey,” Osamu murmurs to him, while Atsumu’s over the other side of the court collecting the balls. “Why did ya ask us and not ya new teammates?”_

_Suna shrugs. “Why wouldn’t I?”_

_“Huh,” Osamu says, considering, but then Atsumu’s spiking a ball straight at them and there’s not much room for thought.)_

He finds Suna pottering around the kitchen, tugging open cupboards at random. “Did you reorganise your kitchen?” he asks, sharply, not even bothering to turn to look at Osamu.

Osamu snorts. “No.”

“Then where the hell are your glasses?” Suna mutters and Osamu can’t help but take pity on him.

He wanders up behind Suna, hovering at his back, and opens the cabinet just to the left of the last one he tried.

“Here,” he says, softly, watching the shadows flick over Suna’s jaw as he turns his head a little to look at Osamu.

“Thanks.”

Suna ducks out from between him and the counter to fill a glass at the tap. “Come on,” he says, “let’s sit down.”

Osamu follows him into his own living room, watching him curl up in his favourite armchair. It’s pathetic – Osamu’s never had a favourite chair himself, until Suna claimed one as his own and Osamu took the other by default.

_His and his chairs_ , he can just imagine Atsumu crowing.

“So,” he drawls, when they’ve been starting at each other for far too long without saying anything. “When are ya gonna start talking?”

Suna rolls his eyes. “Whatever happened to your patience?”

“Don’t pretend like I ever had any,” Osamu scoffs, tossing a cushion into Suna’s face. “Start talking.”

It takes Suna another few seconds. Osamu’s content to watch him mull over the words, obviously not quite sure where to start. He wouldn’t be either.

“We both know how we feel about each other,” Suna says eventually, crossing his legs.

“Well, that’s for sure,” he mutters. Suna shoots him a glare and Osamu just rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, my attitude isn’t appreciated.”

“ _Anyway_ , I think we should actually talk about it, and you know, decide where we’re gonna go from here.”

Osamu sighs. “Right to the heavy shit then?”

_(As much as he complains, Osamu loves the Inarizaki catchups that Atsumu bothers Kita into organising every so often. Atsumu is at the centre of it all, of course, and usually Osamu would be right there next to him, but he’s had a long day at work and is content just to watch the others ruin their vocal cords at karaoke, steadfastly ignoring the fact that he’s been glancing at the door every five seconds waiting for Suna to turn up._

_He’d been harder and harder to pin down over the last few years, busy with life and freaking volleyball but without the unfortunate pull of a twin brother with a terribly soppy personality to drag him back in._

_But still, Osamu’s truly pathetic down in his soul, so he contents himself with waiting for Suna to wander through the door with all the crotchety attitude he harvests especially for these catchups._

_The team’s ten songs in and Osamu is three drinks deep when Suna finally pushes the door open._

_He wanders across the room, dodging Atsumu’s attempt to pull him in to sing with him, and settles down beside Osamu. “It’s been a while,” he says, and Osamu puts off answering him by taking a long, long pull at his beer._

_“It has,” he says eventually, glancing over out of the corner of his eye. Suna’s watching him, unashamedly, but Osamu refuses to be the first to slip._

_“Nothing, huh?” Suna laughs, nudging at Osamu’s shoulder. “Figures.”_

_They end up matching each other drink for drink. Stuff gets a little blurry when Suna climbs into his lap and tucks his face into his neck. Osamu leans his head back against the wall, breathing in slowly and getting not so much air but a brain full of Suna._

_“What are ya doing, Rin?” he mutters, resisting the urge to take Suna’s face between his palms._

_“Dunno,” Suna says, giggling a little. Osamu finds him hilarious when he’s drunk, completely at odds with everything everyone else thinks they know about Suna._

_“Why ya on my lap, then?” Osamu gets brave enough to ask – but it’s probably just all the beer talking._

_“Dunno that either,” Suna mumbles, pulling back to look Osamu in the eye. “Kinda wanna kiss you, though.”_

_When Osamu remembers his words the next day, he has nothing to blame but the alcohol and too many years spent pining over Suna fucking Rintarou. “Do it then.”_

_Drunk Suna doesn’t have so much control over his eyebrows, but he tries to raise one anyway and Osamu scoffs before craning his neck up to catch his lips in a kiss. Suna startles, despite their words, before curling down into Osamu, kissing him back softly._

_Kissing Suna is baffling. Every time, Osamu manages to forget the exact way he presses his tongue into his mouth, insistent and demanding, but never taking more than Osamu wants to give. It sends him spiralling, until all he can think about is the warmth of Suna against him and the way his mind screams at him to never let go._

_They carry on like that for a few minutes, until Osamu pulls away to breathe, pressing a kiss or two to Suna’s neck as shitty compensation. Suna sighs a little, tugging at Osamu’s hair to bring him up to face him._

_“Huh,” Suna says quietly, eyes tracing Osamu’s features. “You look different.”_

_Osamu knows he’s filled out a bit over the past few months – he finally lost the roundness in his cheeks years after Atsumu did – and he even got around to getting the tooth he chipped back in high school fixed._

_“Do I?” he asks anyway, if just to keep Suna looking at him._

_“Yeah,” Suna nods, poking at his cheek. “What have you done with my ‘Samu?”_

_Osamu sighs, tugging Suna in to lean against his chest. “I’m right here, Rin.”)_

“Can I ask why now?”

There’s been plenty of people who’ve described Suna’s glare as withering. Osamu, personally, thinks that’s far too cliché and would class it as something more like soul-destroying.

“Gee, I don’t know, Osamu,” Suna shoots back, and Osamu can tell that his patience is stretching into snapping territory. “Maybe I kind of miss your stupid face and actually want to be with you.”

Osamu raises an eyebrow. Call him petty, but he’s not leaping at the chance to let Suna get what he wants without a little bickering first. Not when they’ve been stuck in a grey tinted limbo for years. “You don’t have to sound so pissed off about it.”

“Is that what you really think?” Suna asks after a beat, leaning forward to set his glass down on the table.

“Huh?”

“Don’t play dumb,” Suna says sharply, “it doesn’t suit you.”

_(Christmas this year sucks. Atsumu’s gone off god knows where with Sakusa after fretting his way through Osamu’s closet, while Osamu himself is inevitably left alone with far too much onigiri and far too few heartbeats filling his cold apartment._

_Because despite everything, he gets lonely too. He’ll never tell Atsumu, but god does he sometimes regret moving out to a place of his own._

_There’s a knock at the door, and Osamu rolls his eyes. “’Tsumu, I thought I’d told ya to get lost!”_

_There’s no response, kinda weird really, so he pulls open the door and comes face to face with Suna._

_“Oh.”  
_

_Suna smirks. “Mind letting me in?”_

_“Well, that depends,” Osamu hedges, leaning against the doorframe. “What are ya here for?”_

_“It’s Christmas Eve,” Suna shrugs._

_Osamu kinda wants to yell at him and ask where he got the nerve to turn up here on Christmas Eve of all days, but he just sighs instead. “Alright.”_

_He leads Suna inside, jerking his head at the armchairs when Suna hesitates in the doorway to the living room._ _  
_

_“You want tea or something?”_

_“I wouldn’t mind some onigiri,” Suna says, “I know you have some stashed somewhere.”_

_“Y’all just like me for my rice,” Osamu scoffs, but he goes to the kitchen anyway, pulling open the fridge and digging out the container buried deep in the back._

_“No, that’s Kita,” Suna corrects, sounding far too happy with himself._

_Osamu rolls his eyes. “Pinnacle of wit, you are today.” He perches himself on the arm of the chair opposite Suna’s. “What’s up?”_

_“What do you mean?” Suna asks through a mouthful of onigiri. Osamu tries not to sigh. It’s so painfully typical of Suna to deflect like that._

_“Cut it out, Rin,” he snaps. “Why are ya here?”_

_Suna shrugs. “It’s Christmas Eve. I’m lonely.” He glances around the room. “You’re lonely.”_

_It’s unspoken, really, the fact that that’s no one’s fault but their own, but Osamu lets it slide. He doesn’t know how to do anything else at this stage._

_“Right,” he sighs. “I’m getting beer. Don’t you dare eat all of those.”_

_He trots back into the kitchen, opens the fridge again and sticks his head inside. He takes a second to open his mouth in a silent scream._

_Suna fucking Rintarou._

_When he re-emerges, beers in hand, Suna’s tucked his legs up onto the chair, scrolling through something on his phone and Osamu waits a second to just watch him. He’s had his hair cut since Osamu’s last seen him, and he misses the days when he would’ve been one of the first to see the change, or at least get more than a smirk ridden snap sent to him. He misses when things were simple._

_Living an unwritten existence isn't something he's good at - it's not the way he and Atsumu grew up, too used to brutal honesty that shatters the boundaries of anything and everything. Hesitance isn't something he knows. But it's something he's gotten used to, the way you would an absent neighbour, seen and not heard, cast to the back of the mind whenever you're not forced to think about them. It's something Suna taught him, unknowingly of course, but sometimes he wonders if Suna knows just what it costs Osamu to rewrite entire sections of his internal dictionary for the sake of love._

_“How’s training, then?” he asks, settling properly down into the chair, tossing his legs up over the armrest. Suna purses his lips, and Osamu can just imagine whatever thoughts he’s having about how uncouth he is._ _  
_

_“Fine,” Suna shrugs. “Washio brought Bokuto and some of the Jackals around the other day, I guess Atsumu told you.”_

_Osamu hums. He didn’t. “How’d that go?”_

_“As expected,” Suna smirks. “We thrashed them. Atsumu sulked like a baby.”_

_And that would be why Osamu hadn’t been informed._

_“I’ll have to ask him ‘bout that,” he laughs, taking a pull of beer. “I'm not blessed by his tantrums that often anymore.”_

_“Really? He seems just as Atsumu as ever.”_

_“Yeah, ‘course, he never stops whining. Volleyball, I mean. He tends to get it all out in the locker room these days. Or he talks to Sakusa. I dunno.”_

_Suna studies him, bottle pressed against his lips. “How’s that been?”_

_“What?”_

_“Atsumu and Sakusa.”  
_

_Osamu’s brow crinkles. “Why ya asking me that? They’re great.”_

_“Yeah,” Suna allows, “but how are you dealing with someone else taking up the majority of Atsumu’s time?”_

_“Jesus, Suna,” Osamu snorts, mainly to hide how dead on Suna is with asking that particular question. “I’m happy for them, ‘course.”_

_“Of course you are,” Suna says slowly, leaning forward, placing his beer down on the coffee table. “But that doesn’t mean you’re okay, Osamu.”_

_He sighs. “Did ‘Tsumu put you up to this?”_

_“Partly,” Suna admits. “But I’m worried too. It’s not like you to wallow. That’s Atsumu’s deal.”_

_“I’m not_ wallowing _,” Osamu scoffs._

_“Right. Cut the shit, ‘Samu.”_

_It’s reflex, almost, or maybe just the result of being Atsumu’s twin, that he snaps. “Cut the shit? Me? How about ya take your own fucking advice, Rin?”_

_Suna arches an eyebrow, doesn’t say anything. Osamu almost regrets it, because despite Suna’s impeccable poker face, he’s always had some idea of what goes on, and all he can see is hurt._

_"Excuse me?"_

_Osamu can't even hold back his harsh sigh. "Don't act like we're not like this cause of you."_

_It's a tense moment of exchanging long, spite filled glares - mainly from Osamu's end, because a switch has been flipped and there's no room here for Suna's sarcastic glowers that don't really carry that much weight._

_“I’m gonna go,” Suna says, standing. “We shouldn’t do this now.”_

_“Then when?”_

_It’s the first time he’s asked._

_“I don’t know. Maybe when we’re rational enough to talk about it without arguing.”_

_Suna doesn’t give him a chance to reply, just stalks out of the living room and the next thing Osamu hears is the bang of the front door._

_“Fuck,” he sighs, kicking at the chair. “Fuckity fuck fuck fuck.”_

_He’s itching to call Atsumu, to call Suna back inside, but it’s fucking Christmas Eve and neither of those options are gonna work out for him. Instead, he settles for chucking the rest of the onigiri back into the fridge, picking up the half-empty beers as he goes. He tips the rest of the bottles down the sink, watching the bubbles pop and shrink until all that’s left is the lingering smell of beer.)_

“I’m not fucking playing dumb, Suna,” Osamu snaps. “Believe it or not, I’m not that keen on messing 'round ‘bout this.”

Suna purses his lips. “Fine. Do you really think that I’m unhappy about this? That I’m in love with you against my better judgement or some rubbish?”

“’Course not.”

And it’s true – Osamu has never doubted what Suna feels for him. It’s been years since they’d exchanged a long glance on the way home from training back in their second year of high school, pinkies brushing and blushes that had nothing to do with the autumn wind high on their cheeks. They’d just _known_.

“That’s never been the problem, Suna. I just wanna know why.”

“Why what?” Suna asks, raising that goddamn eyebrow, _again_.

“Why ya never gave us a chance.”

_(Osamu’s at a table with Bokuto, chatting idly about whatever takes their fancy, because Atsumu’s a wuss who can’t handle turning up to events without someone to be his emotional support hand holder and Osamu's easily swayed by free food.  
_

_Right now though, Atsumu’s over the other side of the room bothering someone else, and Osamu hasn’t laughed this much in months._

_“Say,” Bokuto starts, when they’ve both caught their breath. “You’re dating Suna Rintarou, right?”_

_“No, actually,” Osamu says, tipping the ice around his glass. “Where’d ya get that idea?”_

_“Huh,” Bokuto frowns, looking genuinely surprised. “The way Tsum-Tsum talks about you guys makes it seem like you’re together.”_

_“Really now?” Osamu asks lightly, glancing across the room at where Atsumu’s chasing after a put out Sakusa. “You know ‘Tsumu, can’t take anything he says seriously.”_

_“I guess not…”_

_Osamu downs the rest of his drink, setting the glass down a little too hard and ignoring Bokuto's almost imperceptible flinch.)_

Suna curls into himself on the chair, pulling his feet up and his knees to his chest. Osamu just watches him, waits really, for Suna to say something. It never helps to rush him with shit like this.

“It wasn’t easy, you know,” Suna says suddenly, and it’s Osamu’s turn to arch an eyebrow.

“What wasn’t?”

“Making the choice to move away. I know that we were all leaving, but we weren’t going _together_.”

Osamu grins. “Aw Suna, you had _feelings_?”

“Shut the fuck up, you know I did,” Suna mutters. “What I meant, was that I didn’t want you to decide it wasn’t worth it.”

Osamu remembers, that day back behind the gym, when he’d followed after Suna had snuck out in the middle of their last practice. He’d been more closed off than usual, but Osamu had just put that down to an emotional day. Maybe he should’ve paid better attention.

“Rin…”

“We'd never known what it was like to not see each other every day. It just seemed too hard, Osamu. I didn't want us to end up regretting it and hating each other." 

_  
_

_(Osamu doesn’t tell Suna that he’s going to the match. EJP’s playing the Adlers, so he takes the day off and gets on a train. For once, he doesn’t bother using Atsumu’s pass to get good seats – instead, he bought some online and he’s stuck pretty far up the back, the best he could get on such late notice. It kinda works for him though, since he’s in stealth mode._

_It’s a good match. Plenty of gasps and tricks from both sides of the court. Osamu just smirks and laughs his way through it. There’s not much he hasn’t seen already, blessed as he is with such a brother. The traitorous back of his mind tells him no; not with such a Suna either._ _But it never feels any more natural to watch Suna playing from so far away, and it's_ _almost like Osamu now knows what it feels like to stand on the opposite side of the net to him._

_EJP wins, by a respectable margin, and Osamu staunchly ignores that it's likely because Ushijima’s not in as disgustingly fine form as usual._

_(Boom! his mind helpfully supplies.)_

_Suna gets cornered by a reporter after the match, and Osamu smirks at the flicker of annoyance that passes over his eyes when he sees he’s been projected up onto the screens._

_“Suna-san, that was a remarkable game, how does it feel to come out on top against the best team in the league?”_

_“Everyone played well, of course,” Suna drawls, patting absently at his forehead with a towel. “We just happened to play better.”_

_Osamu rolls his eyes. Cocky bastard._

_“Right,” the reporter agrees, hesitantly, glancing over at the Adlers still lingering around the opposite end of the court. “Do you have anyone special here to watch you today?”_

_Suna smirks, huffs a little. He looks away from the reporter that he was barely paying attention to anyway, shifting his weight a bit as he looks up at the stands. Right at Osamu._

_“You could say that.”)_

Osamu throws a cushion at him.

“Ah, Suna,” Osamu chuckles, kicking his feet out to rest on the coffee table. “I think you’re grossly overestimating my brain power.” 

“Well I know you’re dumb, ‘Samu, but I am aware that it’s not Atsumu in front of me right now,” Suna says, leaning down to pick up the cushion.

“Harsh.”

“True.”

Osamu shrugs. “Can’t argue. But seriously, why would I ever regret that? You’re special, Suna, I’m not stupid enough to give that up so easy.”

“I guess not, if you’re still waiting.”

“We shouldn’t have waited so long,” Osamu admits, scratching his thumbnail over the upholstery. “Just became a habit, I guess.”

“And habits are had to break.”

Osamu looks up at Suna then, and he’s already watching him, waiting for Osamu to look up and meet his gaze. He does look pretty much the same, really, as he did back then. Sure, his hair’s a little longer than he’d be able to get away with under Inarizaki’s dress code and his cheekbones don’t stick out so painfully anymore, but there’s still the unapologetic turn of his lips that’s so unbearably Suna. 

“So what now?” Osamu asks with a smirk.

Suna considers. “What do you want?”

“Me? I want Atsumu to shut the hell up about how he’s the only one with a boyfriend.”

“Seems like there’s a pretty simple solution to that,” Suna comments. 

“Seems so,” Osamu agrees, not even bothering to ignore the way Suna’s smile has him on the verge of crazed laughter.

“So, boyfriends then?” Suna asks, not a hint of hesitance, brazen as he is.

“Aw, Suna, thought you’d never ask,” Osamu croons, fluttering his eyelashes.

“You’re a menace, Osamu."

Osamu shrugs. “Maybe so. Now get over here and kiss me.”

“Bossy,” Suna comments lightly, but he’s already untangling his legs, picking his way around the table and over to Osamu’s chair. He leans down, arms braced against the backrest, fringe brushing against Osamu’s forehead. “Come get it yourself.”

Osamu starts to lean up when Suna suddenly steps backwards, darting off to Osamu’s bedroom.

“You’re the menace, Suna!” he calls, pushing himself out of the chair, following Suna into his room.

_(Osamu’s in his pyjamas, lying on Atsumu’s bed. Visiting out of the blue is awesome; it’s far too easy to piss Atsumu off by waiting for him to come home from practice._

_He hears Atsumu slam the door and trip over something in the hallway, cursing as he makes a mess of the place._

_Osamu rolls his eyes, clicking to the next page of Onigiri Miya reviews. There’s some idiot who decided his rice was undercooked and now he’s strangely hooked on the comments trashing his reputation. Not that there’s many._

_“What are ya doing here?” Atsumu asks from the doorway, bag hanging from his shoulder._

_“Waiting for you to get home, ‘course,” Osamu drawls. “My life is meaningless without you, ‘Tsumu, don’t ya know that?”_

_Atsumu snorts. “Sure. So you’re moping.”_

_Osamu rolls onto his back, grabbing one of Atsumu’s pillows to chuck at him. “Shut up, dick.”_

_“I knew it!” Atsumu crows, flopping down onto the bed, far too close for someone who obviously hasn’t showered after practice._

_“Gross, get away from me,” Osamu mutters, pushing weakly at Atsumu’s shoulder. He hates that he_ is _moping, enough that he doesn’t want Atsumu to move that far away. Not really._

_“Don’t ya wanna know how I knew you were moping though?” Atsumu asks, suspiciously quietly._

_Osamu considers. “Not particularly.”_

_“Well,” Atsumu starts anyway, and Osamu doesn’t bother to hold back his sigh. “We had a surprise practice match today, that Coach set up for us. Against EJP.”_

_Osamu hums._

_“Suna says hi. Also asks when ya gonna stop ignoring him.”_ _  
_

_“I’m not ignoring him.”_

_“Jesus, ‘Samu, it kinda hurts when ya try to lie to me,” Atsumu laughs, turning onto his side, watching Osamu a little too closely. “Why are ya ignoring Sunarin?”_

_Osamu bites his lip, tugging at the hole in Atsumu’s doona cover. It was tiny only a few months ago, and now it’s almost the size of Atsumu’s big head, but he doesn’t seem particularly bothered by it._

_“I’m tired, ‘Tsumu,” he says eventually. “I don’t know what we’re doing.”_

_Atsumu sighs. “I never got why you two decided that ya had to start doing whatever it is that you’re doing.” He frowns. “Does that sentence even make sense? Whatever. The point is, everyone fucking knows that you’re in love, so why the fuck are ya not together?”_

_Osamu frowns, and then realises that he never told Atsumu. “Back at the end of school, I kissed him. And he told me not to make it complicated.”_

_Atsumu raises an eyebrow. Osamu didn’t know he was capable. “Complicated? What’s that supposed to mean?”_

_“Heck if I know,” Osamu scowls. “And now we’re just… not talking about it, I guess.”_

_“’Samu, you need to sort it out,” Atsumu says. “This isn’t good for ya.”_

_“Yeah. How was he, though?”_

_Atsumu peers at him, almost like he’s deciding how much to share. “Honestly? Kinda looked like shit. Someone needs to put both of ya out of your misery.”_

_“Fuck.”_

_“It’s okay, though,” Atsumu says, barely above a whisper. “Wait until you’re ready.”_

_“Stop being all sensitive and mindful of my feelings, it’s weird,” Osamu grumbles, kicking at Atsumu’s leg. “Now get out.”_

_“This is my room, fuckhead!”_

_“Does it look like I care? Go shower!”)_

Osamu wakes up to Suna rolling out of bed. He groans, tugging his pillow closer as he buries his face in it, trying to resist the pull of the morning. He feels Suna run a hand over his back, and then all he hears is the quiet click of the door shutting.

When he wakes up next, there’s enough light coming through the blinds that he can’t quite justify staying in bed any longer, not when there’s an empty Suna shaped spot next to him.

Suna’s in his kitchen again, and it makes Osamu so inexplicably happy to see him there, shuffling around like he’s right at home.

“Morning,” Suna says, and Osamu chooses to ignore the amusement in his voice.

“Hey,” Osamu mutters, ruffling a hand through his hair.

Suna jerks his head over at a cup on the counter, and Osamu takes it before settling down in his armchair. He sips at it slowly, watching Suna potter around his kitchen, digging the milk out of the fridge and loading his own coffee up with sugar. It’s his one indulgence and Osamu smiles a little behind his cup, because he never uses that sugar for anything other than cooking but he somehow still buys the brand that Suna is weirdly attached to.

“Your coffee sucks,” Osamu says, just because he’s feeling kind of petty and he hasn’t seen Atsumu all week. Suna just looks over, amused, before wandering across the kitchen to him.

He climbs into Osamu’s lap, slowly, with all the intent in the world. “And what of it?”

“Nothing,” Osamu says honestly, peering up at him.

“Hmm,” Suna smirks, reaching up to run his fingers through Osamu’s fringe. “Your hair’s getting long.”

Osamu snorts, flicking at the hair curling over Suna’s ears. “So is yours, baby.”

Suna tries to hide the way his breath catches at that, but Osamu sees the pink on his cheeks and the startled blink of his wide eyes.

“You like that, do ya, baby?” he muses, tugging a little at Suna’s hair.

“Yeah,” Suna admits, curling himself closer on Osamu’s lap. He’s gained a lot of muscle since high school, since even the last time he’d sat in his lap only a year or so ago, but his weight isn’t heavy – it’s just _there_ , reassuring and steady and everything Osamu has ever wanted. “What should I call you, then?”

Osamu looks up at him, hideously backlit from the washed-out lightbulb he still needs to replace, eyebrow raised in that same goddamn way Osamu wants to knock right off his face. He curls his hands into Suna’s waist. “Husband.”

Suna leans back, brows flattening over shuttered eyes. It occurs to Osamu that while they’re used to the level of honesty that floats unspoken between them, this is honesty of a different kind, that maybe they’re not ready for just yet. He waits for Suna to say something, _anything_ , but he’s just silent, studying Osamu and giving absolutely nothing away.

“Rin?” he tries, because Suna still hasn’t moved, hasn’t knocked Osamu’s hands off him yet. “Sorry, that’s- I didn’t mean… of course it’s too soon.”

“Osamu.”

“What?” he says, and it’s biting. Suna just stares.

“Is that something you want?” Suna says softly, reaching out to tap gently at Osamu’s chest.

Osamu swallows. After he quit volleyball, there was a feeling he’d chased, usually in the kitchen, and it swallowed him up, scorching his hands and destroying his mind. It had taken sheer stubbornness and a need to not let Atsumu win to drag him up again. It’s a feeling he knows around Suna too, an inexplicable blaze that he’s undeniably addicted to. But Suna’s atmosphere has never burnt him. Sometimes, Osamu thinks that he only ever gets scalded the minute he steps outside of it.

“Of course it is,” he says eventually, glancing down. “One day, yeah, I want to marry you. What’s the point otherwise?”

“Ah, Osamu,” Suna sighs, his lips curling up at the edges and all Osamu wants is to go back to kissing him. “That was the worst proposal I’ve ever heard in my life.”

“Huh?”

Suna smirks. “You’re as bad as your brother.”

“Hey now, that’s unfair,” Osamu starts to protest, but Suna cuts him off with a kiss. Osamu’s eyes go wide before he registers what’s happening, fingers tightening on Suna’s waist, probably too hard, but he knows Suna doesn’t mind if he’s still letting him kiss him like there’s no tomorrow. Osamu breaks his own grip though, one hand drifting up to cup Suna’s cheek, tilting his head just so to get a better angle. Suna hums in reply, meeting Osamu in the middle, giving him so much just by taking exactly what he wants.

Suna breaks the kiss with a sigh, resting his head against Osamu’s shoulder. “Ask me properly, you dipshit.”

“Why can’t you ask me?” Osamu retorts, just to be difficult.

“I’m not the desperate one, am I?” Suna asks, brow raised, and Osamu is a weak, weak man.

“I dunno,” he muses. “We both seem kinda desperate right now.”

Suna glances down, purses his lips. He stands. “Come on, get up.”

“Oh?” Osamu perks up, grinning.

“No,” Suna rolls his eyes. “You’re making me breakfast.”

He wanders off to the kitchen and Osamu flops back against the chair, stuttering out a laugh. “You fucking troublemaker,” he mutters, reaching over to drain the last of his coffee before standing up and following Suna back into the kitchen.

_( **Rin | 10:23** Hey_

**_Rin | 10:23_ ** _Got a minute?_

_Osamu sighs as he reads the message, clamping his teeth down on the edge of his mug. He types out a reply, but hesitates. He’s got the shop to open in five minutes, his mother to call back and an exasperatingly early customer peering at him through the doors._

_It’s the easiest call to make._

**_Samu | 10:27_ ** _for you? always)_

**Author's Note:**

> this whole thing was inspired by one tiny little scene from Yellowstone, so if something seems familiar, it probably is. please yell in the comments if you found it.


End file.
